


Strands

by kitausu



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Coping, Drabble, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hair Braiding, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 04:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitausu/pseuds/kitausu
Summary: For the anon who asked for “ shance, maybe do one with lance doing shiro’s hair when it was still long? “ Sorry this took so long!Shiro and Lance reconnecting after his disappearance at the end of S3 and finding ways to cope.





	Strands

**Author's Note:**

> This was a little bit heavier then I intended, but I hope you guys like it!

It had been about a week since they had found Shiro, since he had made his way back to them, back to Lance. Things were still, tentative. The way Shiro moved, how his eyes shifted so quickly from each of them, like he was afraid if he wasn’t looking at every one of them at the same time, one of them would disappear. The way Lance would catch Shiro reaching out to him, only to draw his hand back at the last second, and hunch into himself like there was something wrong with him, it was all killing him.

He wanted something, anything, to just give Shiro a moments peace, even a second of rest, to let himself just not think for a minute.

Before, before Shiro had disappeared, they had been moving towards something, fumbling around unnamed feelings, making their way a little closer every day. But now, it was like they had taken 100 steps back, lost in that maze of feelings once again, maybe even farther apart then they had ever been before.

Lance felt like he was banging his fists up against a pane of glass, Shiro so close, yet completely out of his reach with nothing to break through, to bridge the gap.

It was like an electrical shock the day that inspiration finally struck, the way to maybe bring Shiro a step closer to him, for Lance to move a step closer on his own.

He had found Shiro in one of the common rooms, his fingers combing uselessly through his long hair, strands catching in his Galra arm and ripping mercilessly from his scalp as Shiro attempted to rip through a particular large tangled knot.

Without thinking, Lance had moved to his side, his own hands resting gently on Shiro’s, stilling the violent movements.

“Let me?”

Lance could only whisper, the space between them fraught with something strange and breakable as Shiro’s body tensed with uncertainty. Shiro was always conflicted these days, caught between wanting all of them always within arm’s reach and the desperate desire to keep them far away, to protect them.

“Please?”

Lance tilted his head, angling so he could catch Shiro’s eyes, imploring him with just a look. The nod he received was jerky and hesitant, but Shiro dropped his hands and tilted his head forward in acceptance, missing Lance’s soft smile.

Lance knew he had a brush in his room, but something told him that if he left Shiro, even for the few minutes it would take to retrieve it, he would be gone. He couldn’t risk losing this chance, not when it had fallen in his lap so perfectly.

Instead, Lance patiently settled himself on his knees behind Shiro, his hands taking Shiro’s hair as gently as possible, separating it out into sections to make his work easier. And it was cathartic, the rhythm of running his fingers through Shiro’s surprisingly soft hair.

He didn’t know why it shocked him that Shiro’s hair was soft, Shiro liked to be clean, even in this state, Lance knew he showered daily, but it had never occurred to him that Shiro wouldn’t know what to do with his longer hair. The knots were tightly woven in and had clearly been there for a few days. Lance found himself sticking his tongue out in concentration, something Shiro had frequently made fun of him for before.

But, Shiro’s back was to him, and he remained silent, his head bobbing backwards and forwards as Lance tugged gently on his hair and worked each knot out into smooth slightly wavy strands.

When he finally got to the last section, Shiro’s head had drooped forward considerably, his breathing heavy and deep as his chin touched his chest. Lance didn’t think he was asleep, but he moved carefully all the same.

It felt good, finally working the last knot out between his fingers and it was on instincts alone that had him moving to the crown of Shiro’s head and beginning the familiar process of a French braid. It was something he had done so often for his sisters and cousins, he barely needed to think anymore, picking up strands of hair as easily as breathing.

“What are you doing?”

Shiro’s voice was sandpaper rough when he spoke, clearing his throat several times to get the sleepiness out of his throat.

“I’m braiding your hair.”

Lance could tell there was a question forming on Shiro’s lips, and Lance waited patiently for it, still methodically moving along, tucking strands over and under and going as slowly as he had ever gone through the process before.

Except, the question never came, and Shiro’s chin ducked back down to his chest, carefully, as if he was afraid of dislodging Lance’s hands from his scalp.

When he reached the end of Shiro’s hair, Lance held the ends of the braid between his fingers for several long moments, realizing that the hair tie he had moved for on his wrist, didn’t exist here in space.

“What’s wrong?”

Shiro’s voice was a little clearer, stronger then Lance had heard it since he had come back.

“I don’t have a hair tie…do you think Keith--?”

Shiro huffed a quiet laugh, his flesh hand passing a small black hair tie over his shoulder without another word. He wrapped the little band three times, before passing the end over Shiro’s shoulder for him to inspect.

“What do you think?”

When Shiro turned around, his lips had curled up, the closest thing Lance had seen to a smile in the entire time he had been back.

He carefully fingered the braids in his human hand, the Galra now held motionless by his side, his eyes softening as he took in Lance’s work.

“Thank you.”

There was a part of Lance that had thought it would be a onetime thing and he had prepared himself to be shut out again. Except, the next night, Shiro was at his door, his hair damp from the shower and dripping a puddle on the floor.

“Could you…?”

He shifted nervously from foot to foot, as if expecting a rejection. Except, Lance could never say no to Shiro. And it became their nightly ritual, with Shiro sitting on the floor at Lance’s feet, his back to him as Lance perched on the bed and patiently worked through every tangle and knot before helping Shiro to dry and braid his hair.

It was only natural, the evolution, from Shiro at Lance’s feet, to Shiro in Lance’s bed, sleeping with his back now pressed to Lance’s chest, allowing him to hold him close throughout the night, to help fend off the nightmares and detangle the raging thoughts in his head and heart.

Even years later, when the walls between them seemed like they had never existed, and they were back on Earth, Shiro still went to Lance, every night, to have him comb out and braid his hair, a ritual without end.


End file.
